


We Have to Hold On

by KaelsMiscellany



Series: Indulge the Other [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Magical Tattoos, Season 2 AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 06:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaelsMiscellany/pseuds/KaelsMiscellany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chaos comes on the heels of the Wolf Moon; starting with Derek and Laura's return to Beacon Hills.</p><p>[Discontinued]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I've decided I'll try and bully myself into finishing this story by starting to post it. But we'll see how well that goes.

Christmas Day might be over, but that doesn't mean the festivities for the Reid Clan were.

Which is how Laura finds herself in the kitchen the next morning turning out even more baked goods with Nana Reid. Nana side-eyes her as she starts rolling out pie crust. "Not to thin love, pay attention."

Laura holds in an annoyed huff. "Yes Nana."

Derek and Tim are in the other room helping to keep the pups occupied, at least they have the whole hoard of Christmas toys to help. Everyone else who lives at the main house are off doing one thing or another. A sharp pinch pulls her back. "Attention, Laura." Nana sighs and takes the rolling pin from her hands. "If you're going to think, go mix up dough for cookies."

She flushes, "sorry Nana."

Her grandma waves her off. "No need dearie. Sometimes it's good to wander your mind, find all sorts of interesting things that way." She gives Laura a quick grin. "Though it's also good to air out your problems every once in a while."

Laura does huff this time. "Nana."

She gets the spatula wave. "Don't 'nana' me Laura Marie Hale. I'm your grandmother."

Remembering she's supposed to be making cookie dough she starts measuring out ingredients. "You're getting as bad as Cassandra."

Out of the corner of her eye she can see Nana's lip curl in distaste. "That gossip-mongering harlot of a she-wolf?" -she harrumphs- "Sometimes I swear she was switched with my real daughter. Though you're mother more than made up for her older sister."

"You should watch what you say about my best spy Abigail." They both turn to see Jessie standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

Nana dips her head. "My apologies Alpha."

Jessie nods. "Laura I need to speak with you."

She sets down her measuring cup and follows Jessie to her home office. Laura takes one of the overstuffed chairs. "What's wrong."

Jessie takes the seat across from her. "I think it's time you and Derek left."

Laura stiffens. "What?!"

"I'm not saying permanently." Jessie holds up her hands in a placating gesture. "But just for the Wolf Moon, you're an Alpha and you need to try and re-plant your roots. You've been trying for five years to fit in with us, but it's just not working." Said hands are soon covering her own. "Go back to Beacon Hills, go see your uncle. And if you find even there doesn't fit then you can come back and I can start asking around about unclaimed land."

Numbly Laura nods, her brain trying to process. They might not be being kicked out, but her heart's aching like they are.

"Or I can start asking after land now. You've got till the three-quarters moon to decide."

Laura nods again, a week's reprieve feels like the world right now. She needs to get to Derek, needs to ground and center herself. "Can I go?"

Jessie makes a sound of ascent and woodenly Laura stands and walks out. She goes to the living room and for a moment just watches Derek wrestling around with the kids. They haven't talked much about what happened six years ago and she's regretting it right now, because the fire changed Derek and she doesn't know what will happen to him if they go back. "Derek."

He looks up at her while Lori and Mike try to use him as a jungle gym. Her. . .anguish? unhappiness?, must be showing on her face because his whole demeanor changes. She watches as he gently pulls off the two pups and hands them over to Tim before walking over to her. He hugs her and she breaths in their pack-scent, pine and maple-wood, as well as his peaty self-scent. "What's wrong?"

She clutches him tightly and shakes her head. "I don't want to talk about it here, or right now."

Derek nods and just clutches her tighter.

-

Even though his wolf itches to know Derek forces himself to be patient, Laura will tell him in her own time what's going on. At least he has plenty of things to distract himself with: pups to watch, fires to put out because humans are idiots who don't seem to understand the hazard of dry pine trees next to their fireplaces, letting the guys in his firehouse drag him out to a New Year’s Eve party because Laura wants him to be more social, more like he'd been. . .before.

It's Friday when Laura approaches him. She brings coffee, which he should realize means that whatever she needs to tell him isn't good, but he's bone tired from last night and just accepts the coffee; it might not give him more than the faintest of buzzes, but even a little buzz would do wonders for his mental state right now.

So he sips his coffee and lets himself enjoy the taste of it on his tongue. "Jessie and I talked earlier this week about the Wolf Moon."

Derek freezes, he hates this time of year, a crushing reminder of what he lost because he fell in love. Laura sits next to him, their shoulders touching; but he doesn't want her comforting his guilt away and slips closer to the arm of the couch. Her eyes flash and her pain just adds to his guilt. "Derek. . ."

"What did you talk about?" If she digs he might just let everything spill, and he can't let that happen; he's selfish and doesn't want what's left of his family to hate him.

Laura sighs, but thankfully she lets him lead the conversation. "Jessie thinks you and I should go back to Beacon Hills."

He bites back a snarl as hot coffee and shattered ceramic spills over his hands. "Derek!" She grabs him and pulls him to the kitchen. The cold water's a welcome shock and he lets his healing do the rest.

Turning the water off he rests his head on his forearms. "Why?"

Her hands rub soothing circles in his back. "You know as well as I do that we're not really fitting in here. Jessie wants us to see if we feel any better there, and if we don't she said she'll help us find a place that does feel like home."

"So she's kicking us out?"

Laura's hands still. "Is it really kicking us out? Or is she forcing us to live? We've just been existing since we got here Derek, I don't want to spend the rest of my life like that."

He did.

"So are we going?" He wishes she'd say 'no', but she's his Alpha and if she goes he will to.

"Yes, Der, we are." She hugs him, her face resting against the triskelion-mark he got the day of the fire, the one that still confuses him. "I talked with Jake, and. . ." Laura takes a deep breath and he finds himself taking it with her. "I think I can pull Peter out of his coma."

Derek tries to squash the spark of hope her words bring, but it's futile. "Really?"

She nods against his shoulder. "Really."

He pushes himself up. "Guess I better go pack then."

Laura smiles like a sunrise.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I should have mentioned this last week, but updates will be every Monday or Tuesday (unless the dreaded writers block comes).
> 
> Also the title for the story comes from "We're in This Together Now" by Nine Inch Nails.

It's been six years since they've been to Beacon Hills and it's eerie to drive through the town and see how little it's changed. After checking into their hotel they drive to the house in silence. Derek's lost in his own thoughts and she lets him stay there. She knew that coming back for him would be worse than it was for her, though he won't say why. After they're done staring at the house they'll head over to the long-term care center and see Peter.

When they pull up to the clearing they stare at the house, but not for the reasons they should be.

The house has been completely rebuilt, returned to its full Victorian glory. Whoever did it even painted it the same colors: pale cream with forest green trim.

They're both so fixated on the house that Laura doesn't even realize there are other people there until she hears a faint snarl. The sound snaps her out of her fugue and in a flash she's out of the car, eyes skipping over a jeep, a bug, and a motorcycle to land on two boys; two werewolves, eyes bitten-gold, smelling of an unfamiliar pack, and both none too happy with her. The shorter of the two, but not by much, steps forward, wire-thin body nearly vibrating with energy. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing." Derek's voice sounds barely human and she rests a hand on his shoulder to help calm him down.

"Our Alpha lives here," this from the bulky one who looks like he was built haphazardly out of stone and then covered in rich dark skin to try and make up for it.

Derek's eyes turn blue. "Then you're all trespassing because this is our land, and our house."

Wiry gives a smile that's all teeth. "Right, your place. Then where have you been the past two months while we've been rebuilding? Haven't exactly been quiet about it, the whole town knows. Just, you know, out of curiosity."

Laura digs her claws into Derek, freezing him in place. "Out of town."

Wiry gives a sage nod, "right, right. Vay-cays all around. Except my dad kinda has to know everything about this town and you two haven't been talked about in years."

He has her there, they've been gone so long that it's only natural this pack would think this place abandoned. But his little riposte also tells her that he knows exactly who she is. "You've been expecting us?"

The boy shrugs, showing off a polka-dotted crescent moon on his collarbone. "For a week or so, surprised it took you this long to get here."

That gets her hackles up and she can feel the wolf bleeding in, make-submit make-yours. She manages to reign most of the instinct in, but she can't help the growl that escapes her, setting Derek off. Which sets off the two Betas again.

A sharp whistle breaks through all the snarling and even Laura finds herself turning to the porch to see a Strawberry blonde human girl, she's a bit too far for Laura to get a good whiff of her but she does get vague hints of the same pack-smell as the two Betas as well as a strange. . .dark smell, in a mens shirt and pants wielding a quarter staff. "If none of you cut it out and behave I'll smack sense into all of you."

Derek gives a disbelieving snort and Strawberry changes her stance to face him. "What? You think just because you're stronger and a werewolf I can't beat your sorry ass?" She tilts the quarterstaff more parallel to the ground. "Why don't you come and find out Bubbles?"

Out of the corner of her eye Laura can see the two Betas inching out of Strawberry's way, they're also sniggering; but she can't pay too much attention to them because Derek's twitching. There's a smirk on Strawberry's face and it's enough to goad Derek into a charge. "Derek." Laura hates using the Alpha-voice, but in this case it's more than a little necessary; Derek freezes. "If you attack her we revoke guest-right." And like that her brother's back to normal, relatively speaking.

Strawberry relaxes her stance with a soft, 'damn'. Laura stiffens, the girl wanted them to attack? The two of them were only visiting for the Wolf Moon, she felt no inclination to try and reclaim the territory, though the rebuilt house still hurts. She doesn't care about the new pack that had set up shop in Beacon Hills. The wolf in her strenuously disagrees.

A clack, clack sound breaks her from her thoughts. Strawberry's tapping her quarterstaff on the porch impatiently. "Are you two coming inside? Or are you going to be our new statuary?" The two Betas are gone.

Laura gives the girl the best smile she can under the circumstances as she walks up to Derek and lays a hand on him. "Of course we're coming in."

The girl turns around, deliberately showing them her back and her contempt, before entering the house herself.

"Behave."

Derek sneers as they go in. "I'm not making any promises." Oh brother.

The house smells of paint, varnish, and that irritating pack-scent, one that reminds her of hard apple cider. And it's eerie to walk familiar halls and have them be completely foreign. The three teens are in the kitchen. Wiry-Beta and Bulky-Beta are sitting at the peninsula, while Strawberry is flitting about the kitchen pulling down tubs and cartons.

Deja vu smacks Laura in the chest and for a moment all she feels is ache. It might be different players but this scene could have been played out so easily before the fire.

Here in such close quarters it's easier to get the self-scents of them, and Laura takes shameless advantage of it. Wiry is just as sharp smelling as he is sharp-tongued: citrus and copper leaving an odd taste in the back of her mouth. Bulky smells of half-rotted loam and fog. Strawberry's strange dark smell is even stronger here, but there's an equally strange. . .off-ness to it, like there's something not right. She also smells most strongly of the Alpha: bitters and charcoal.

Laura and Derek take two of the remaining bar stools and the two Betas, who'd been talking about school work, fall silent, staring at them in clear dislike, their scents radiating displeasure and disdain. Laura pays them no mind, though Derek's glaring back, and watches Strawberry instead. The girl's movements speak of a task she's done hundreds of times before. Five mugs are on the counter and three of them quickly get portions of syrup or powder or a strange spicy smelling liquid respectively. The other two remain untouched as she stares at Laura and Derek for a few moments. In the end she shrugs and opens up tubs of tea, filling the kitchen in a cacophony of scents; Derek sneezes, but Laura manages to hold it in.

Empty tea bags come out next and Strawberry quickly fills them and puts them in their respective cups. Milk emerges from the fridge and she pours quite a bit into a metal pitcher before she heads to what Laura realizes is a steamer. Which lets out an awful hissing racket as she heats the milk. Luckily it's over quickly and milk goes into the three mugs that Laura notes are probably for Strawberry and her pack-mates. The last two mugs only get water from what looks like an insta-hot.

Said mugs get placed in front of her and Derek while two of the others go to the Betas and the last goes to Strawberry herself. Awkward silence falls. Moments later Laura barely manages to hold in her surprise when she realizes that the two Betas have yet to touch their drinks outside of removing their tea bags. Strawberry drinks from hers, and finally the other two Betas start drinking themselves.

Laura wonder's what connection Strawberry has to the pack Alpha. A sister, or daughter is probably most likely, considering how strong the Alpha-scent is on her.

A faint hum breaks the silence and Wiry pulls out his phone, there's an even fainter click-click as he hits a button. "They'll be back soon."

Strawberry nods and Laura can see a tension she'd never noticed before leaves the girl's body. "Good."

Silence falls again, less awkward this time though Laura chalks it up to the fact that the teens are more confident with their Alpha and whoever else returning to the house.

Laura hears them a few minutes later, the swish-swish as they walk through long dead leaves, two heartbeats, and the faint rhythm of conversation between two male voices. Wiry's grinning like he knows something they don't and can't wait for them to find out, Bulky looks content, and Strawberry's got a soft smile dancing around the corners of her lips.

Thump-creak, thump thump as the two take the porch steps. There's only a click to indicate the door's been opened, but the sudden influx of two new scents tells her that too. The Alpha scent of bitters and charcoal as well as a second scent of pears and cloves from the other man.

Since the back door's so close to the kitchen there's not much of a wait for the two men to arrive. The first one to enter's a teenager like the rest, tanned skin and warm smile making him look like a poster-child for California's beaches, he's the pear and cloves one.

Then the Alpha steps in and Laura suddenly finds it hard to breath. She can feel the same shiver of shock go through Derek as they both stare at their uncle. The smile he gives looks strange on him, but Laura can't find it in her to wonder why. "Hello."


	3. Chapter 3

His voice snaps the world back into focus and she and Derek rush over to him, enveloping him in hugs. For a moment it feels like the fire never happened and Mom and Dad will chide them for trying to smother Uncle Pete and Great-Aunt Meredith will laugh and say something like 'it'll do the boy some good.' Except, except. . .Except Peter's not returning their hug and he's Alpha and he shouldn't be and. . .

She looks up to see his eyes gone Alpha-red, and there's a hint of fang as he speaks. "I'd appreciate it if you'd let me go."

And that, that hurts most of all.

She untangles herself as quickly as she can, taking Derek with her. The moment there's space between them Strawberry's there, handing Peter her mug. He lays a kiss on the top of her head. "Thank you Darkling." Laura wonders how old Strawberry is, and if she knows what she's getting into; they might not smell of sex, but there's definitely something going on between them.

There's a hint of a smirk dancing around the girl's lips, "of course Peter."

Just like she appeared she moves away, over to Beach-Beta wrapping an arm around his back. He rolls his eyes. "Charming as ever 'Dia."

Dia jabs him in the chest. "You're one to talk Danny." Which gets a snort from Bulky-Beta.

Laura finally finds it in her to speak. "What happened Peter?" Calling him 'uncle' right now makes her wolf twitchy.

"I clawed my way back to the land of the living and made myself a pack to protect this place, since you so foolishly ran off."

His words slice. "I had to make sure Derek and I survived! We were all that was left and I didn't want the hunters to get us too."

Peter drinks from his mug, looking far too relaxed considering. "Yes, but that was six years ago, dear niece. Why didn't you come back any time after that? We're the guardians of this place and you left it for any pack to claim. You are an Alpha, you should act like it."

She snarls. "You shouldn't even be an Alpha Peter."

He smiles. "And yet I am, because this place needs guarding and I was the only Hale here."

Laura thinks she can't take much more. She lets go of Derek, and even more anger floods her. "I challenge you." The wolf's so close to the surface that it doesn't take much to start calling it out, Peter's eyes flare red again.

"Then as the challenged I say we will have the Land pass judgment?"

And it's just hitting her that he's serious. She crosses her arms. "Fine."

Peter gestures to the hall. "Stiles, you're coming too."

Wiry-Beta blinks in surprise. "Wait, really?"

"Yes." Stiles madly leaps from his bar stool and does a strange run-jog to get to them. Laura watches Peter wrap an arm around Dia, who’s chopping celery, as he sets his mug on the counter. "We should be back in a little while. Think you can behave yourself until then?"

Dia huffs and waves her knife in Derek's general direction. "What with Bubbles here? It'd be easier to get Harris to like Stiles. But I'll try. I take it they're staying for dinner?"

Peter chuckles and gives her a brief kiss to the temple. "My nephew has become quite the terror hasn't he? I'm sure he still has some manners though, so you shouldn't worry too much." For a moment he stares at Derek and Laura. "And yes, they'll be joining us for dinner." He lets go of her and rejoins Laura and Stiles, motioning towards the back door. "Shall we?" They leave the house to the sounds of Dia asking Boyd, who must be the bulky one, if he'll go shopping for her.

Tension crackles in the air as the three of them walk towards the Alter-site. If Stiles notices it he doesn't comment, just keeps jogging ahead then back to them, as if trying to get them to hurry up.

When they finally get there she's pleased to note that the Alter's been cleaned recently, off-white granite gleaming softly in the afternoon light. Stiles goes on one side, Laura and Peter on the other. He sifts slightly, claws making new groves in the scarred stone. "Arms."

Peter rolls up his sleeve and Laura sheds her jacket, both placing their forearms on the alter in front of Stiles. Who puts his hands on their wrists and digs in. Peter apparently doesn't notice the pain, but Laura finds herself letting loose a soft hiss. Then Stiles starts speaking, his Gaelic's a bit stop and go, but he hardly makes any mistakes.

From this angle she's got a clear look at his moon-mark. Before she'd though it only a crescent moon with polka-dots, but now she can see they're not polka-dots at all, but hundreds of tiny faces, seemingly staring back at her. Which is the last thing she sees before the world goes white.

-

Derek sits in silence as he watches Lydia work. She and the other one, Danny?, are having an argument about some mathematical thing while she chops up potatoes, bacon, and onions; the only word he's recognized so far is pi. They're content to ignore him and right now he's content to be ignored. He wraps his hands around his mug and takes another sip of the chamomile and mint tea she'd made him, a not-so-subtle 'chill out'.

Now she's going on about missing numbers and even Danny's getting a glazed look in his eye. For a human she's surprisingly observant and quickly segues into how awful Ms. Morrison is at teaching Shakespeare.

At least this conversation he can follow. It's only been six years after all since he himself went to school, and things here don't change that much. “Does Mr. Leeds still do that thing with the egg?”

The two teens fall silent and look at him. Lydia's got a look in her eyes that frightens him, though he can't say why. Danny's the one who answers. “Yeah, he does.”

But the bulky one, Boyd, come back and forestalls the rest of the conversation, hands full of shopping bags. Lydia puts down her knife and goes over to help him empty them. When they finish there's a hint of a smile on Boyd's lips. "Anything else?"

She bats her eyelashes at him. "Biscuits and carrots?"

He gives an exaggerated sigh. "Fine."

Lydia kisses his cheek, and Derek feels a pang at the easy-going affection they all seem to have with each other. The Reid's and the guys in his fire station are good people, but they don't touch as easy as he's used to. A rejection in and of itself. Proof that he can't move on, just exist in the holding pattern he's set for himself.

-

This may be his third time here, but Stiles still isn't used to the. . .Spirit world? Nevernever? Faerie? Not even the books he's been reading can agree on a name, way to drop the ball guys. Laura and Peter are shaking off the effects of the spirit relocation, a rougher ride for the two of them than the one he went through.

Strangely enough his ADHD is more blessing than curse here. He can focus on the grasslands, "The two sides only reflect each other in meaning. Grassland means we can see trouble coming from miles away.", and the castle in the distance that represents Beacon Hills, as well as maintain the connections between bodies and spirits, and still have enough left over to do his actual job. So go him.

Peter's spirit-form is familiar enough that the ruined and mangled skin doesn't even phase him anymore. But Laura, Laura's something new and he doesn't care if she catches him staring. Unlike Peter, she's a full wolf, if wolves came in XXXL and had fangs like a saber-tooth. -Woah-

-Stiles- The reprimand is a gentle one but it reminds him they're not here for a lesson.

-Sorry- He goes to the alter, here an opulent thing made out of pale blue stone and covered in ever-shifting Ogham. His basket of things is right where he left it and he quickly reaches in to grab his reed flute. Hopping up onto the alter he sits tailor fashion and starts playing. All the while focusing his will and sending out tendrils of: talk, important things.

Except for the foot of ground surrounding the alter the rest of the grassland shivers. Stiles stops playing as Beacon/Wood appears.

Instead of the copse of quaking aspen it had been last time, it has the form of a dead ash with a noose. He quickly suppresses a shudder. -Greetings. . .his mind brings together the ideas and feelings that are about as close to the spirit's true name as he can manage.- Beacon/Wood is just less confusing for human tongues.

-Greetings youngling/boy/shaman. Greetings battered-not-broken/Alpha- The tree creaks. -Greetings wolf-of-blood-not-pack/Alpha. Reason?-

-Wolf-of-blood-not-pack claims this as her land, says battered-not-broken no right to Guardianship/Alpha. Agree that you should decide.-

An unfelt wind makes Beacon/Wood branches rub together and the noose sway. All they can do now is wait.

-

Tree finally breaks the silence and his voice comforts Laura. Seeing him again is at least one good thing about being home. -Wolf-of-blood-not-pack/Alpha stay?-

But she looks away at his question, because even looking at Tree, let alone Peter's disfigured soul suddenly becomes too much for her right now. -I don't know.-

The noose sways. -You take guardianship and leave. Who guards? Who protects?-

-She leaves, I stay, I protect.- Peter's voice sounds just as mangled as his body and Laura feels like everything's gone wrong.

Tree's branches creak. -Wolf-of-blood-not-pack/Alpha leaves, battered-not-broken/Alpha remains and guards. Wolf-of-blood-not-pack/Alpha stays, has human place. Battered-not-broken/Alpha has young forest place. Wolf-of-blood-not-pack/Alpha choice before moon's end. Accept?-

-Accept.- The fact that Peter's happy about this decision makes her bitter.

Laura's not sure of what she wanted the verdict to be, but she feels like this shouldn't be it. She might have two weeks until the full moon, but she knows so much could go wrong. -Accept.-

Stiles finally speaks again, his stone and water soul surprisingly fluid in its bowing. -We appreciate your guidance, the spirit-name rushes over her like a sigh.-

The sound of leaves rustling fills the area and Tree leaves.

Stiles flows from his spot on the alter to his basket to behind the alter. -Ready to go?- Laura takes the same spot her physical body resides in the real world, pointedly not looking at Peter's soul.

The return happens much quicker than the journey there, for which Laura is grateful. Once Stiles takes his claws out she pulls her jacket back on, even though she knows it won't warm her the way she needs to be warmed. And even though they're in their physical bodies it's hard to look at Peter. "You two can head on back to the house. I. . .I need to think for a little while."

Peter's nod is surprisingly understanding. He points west, "go about a mile that way."

Laura would have liked to stay at the alter, she'd always found it a calming place, but she's more than a little curious about what Peter wants her to see. So she goes west while Peter and Stiles go south-east.

And a mile later she wonders what sort of game Peter's playing; thinking that hurts, Peter never played mind-games. Because she finds herself amongst her family's graves. There's even one for her unborn sibling. Laura collapses and lets herself mourn.

-

Peter and Stiles return without Laura and Derek feels his hackles rise. “Where's Laura?”

Peter takes one of the bar stools while Stiles just stands by the counter, rocking back and forth on his heels. “She went to go see the graves.”

Derek tries to speak again but his throat's been clogged up. The only sound he can manage is a garbled keen.

“Peter.” Lydia's voice, of all things, startles him out of his grief and he glances over to see Peter's dug into the wood of the peninsula. With deliberate slowness fingers uncurl to lay flat, covering the divots he's made. A soft sigh comes from the girl and he watches her leave the pot of clam chowder. On her way to Peter she nudges Stiles with her hip, “go stir.”

Stiles practically leaps over to the stove while Lydia presses herself against Peter's back, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head between his shoulders, eerie mimic of what he himself went through a few days ago.

Something in Peter seems to change with her touch and he sneers at Derek. “You two couldn't even be bothered to lay them down yourself could you?”

Rage floods him and he launches at Peter, claws and fangs at the ready. Strong hands grasp him before he even gets halfway and before he knows it Danny and Boyd have tossed him out of the house. Boyd goes back in but Danny remains on the porch, arms crossed. “Five minutes.”

Derek snarls and flips the teen off.

-

Out of the corner of his eye Stiles watches Peter slump a little into Lydia's grasp. “How is it that I'm related to those two temperamental and indecisive ninnies?”

Stiles bites back a really inappropriate laugh; seriously who uses the word 'ninny' anymore? His amusement apparently still seeps through because a moment later Peter's giving him a very sharp look. Stiles tips his head back in apology. Peter chuffs and relents.

Boyd's behind Lydia now, nearly enveloping her as he too hugs Peter. Stiles so very badly wants to join them, but Lydia gave him a task and her anger's even worse than Peter's; he's pretty sure no other human being will ever be as terrifying as her. Instead he contents himself with occasionally brushing Peter's hands with his free one.

The oven timer goes off as Derek and Danny come back in. Derek still looks pissed, but Stiles thinks that might be his default setting, at least he doesn’t look like he wants to murder Peter. . .much. Stiles shakes his head at Boyd and slips on oven mitts to pull the biscuits and carrots out himself. He nudges the oven shut with his foot as he puts both sheets on the cooling rack. Pulling off the gloves he dips a finger into the chowder and tries it. “I think it's safe to say dinner's ready.”

Dinner soon becomes a mitigated disaster, the food might have been delicious, but the atmosphere could have used some work.

Laura had entered the house soon after Danny had finished setting the table, and it kind of went all downhill from there. Derek is still glaring at Peter, Laura tries to get him to calm down, but she's clearly still wrestling with the decision she has to make; Stiles doesn't envy her. Boyd looks like he actually wants to hurt something, Derek most likely considering, instead of his usual neutral face, which everyone else mistakes for his 'I want to hurt something' face.

One day Stiles will ask Lydia how she manages to lie with her scent, because not only is she acting like the perfect hostess, she smells like she doesn't mind the fact Laura and Derek are there at all, but it won't be this day. Because he can already tell she's nearing her breaking point, he's had ten years to discern the many moods of Lydia Martin and her smiles are getting brittler and brittler as the meal goes on.

Stiles is pretty sure Danny notices too, if the occasional questioning glance is anything to go by. He reaches under the table and gently squeezes his boyfriend's hand.

Though at least it hadn't A) devolved into all-out war or B) completely ruin any and all future chances of an alliance, though considering Peter's attitude the most they'll probably have is toleration.

He and Danny get clean up since Lydia and Boyd cooked. Lydia and Peter deliberately herd Laura and Derek to the door, demeanors clearly radiating 'leave now'. Once the sound of their car fades away something in everyone relaxes. Once the kitchens clean the whole pack collapses onto the couch in the living room. Enjoying the feel of tangled limbs, safety, and together. Even Stiles doesn't feel his usual need to fill the silence. Right now is good just the way it is.

Eventually though it starts getting late and they all have school tomorrow. One by one they extract themselves and start heading for the door.

Peter's hand manages to snag Lydia's wrist as she gets up. “Stay?”

Lydia pauses before turning back around and nodding, letting him pull her back down into a hug.

Stiles-the-wolf is more than happy that his Alpha has a mate who makes him happy and strong, even if she's not a wolf herself. Stiles-the-human is still conflicted as hell. But he seems to make her happy, or at least happier than Jackson did.

Letting the problem tangle in his mind Stiles leaves.


	4. Chapter 4

Peter's hand snatches up his phone before it has the chance to vibrate off the nightstand. "Mmm'llo?"

"Peter it's me John, I need your.. .expertise on something."

And if that isn't intriguing. . ."Something happen with Stiles?" The sheriff might accept Stiles as a werewolf, but there are something's human's just don't get about being a wolf.

John chuckled. "If only. No, there's been a murder and it's. . .well, it's not pretty."

Peter frowns. "What's the address?"

John rattles it off and Peter repeats it just to be sure. "I'll be there in a bit."

"Alright." Peter hangs up before John can. As quietly as he can he climbs out of bed, getting dressed as quickly as possible.

"Peter? What's going on?" Not quietly enough it seems. He turns to see Lydia sitting up in bed, hair all a-tangle and eyes still half-closed. The urge to undress and crawl back into bed with her is strong, he resists and instead walks over to give her a kiss.

"Not sure yet Darkling. Go back to sleep alright? I'll let you know in the morning."

She mutters something that sounds like 'you'd better' before letting herself fall back onto the bed, quickly rolling over to take his old place. He gives an affectionate huff as he leaves. Peter debates on whether or not to take Lydia's bug or his motorcycle, and in the end decides to take her bug, less conspicuous.

-

John Stilinski stands in front of the door to the Lahey house and waits for Peter. The past few months have been strange to say the least, but illuminating. Even now the truth of the Hale fire makes his heart ache. On the whole his and Stiles' relationship has hardly changed, except for the fact that Stiles hounds him even more about eating right. "I can smell the bacon on you dad." All things considered his boy is happier than he's ever been since Daphne died and John's pretty damn grateful for that.

The soft squeak of tires pulls him out of his reverie. He gives a little frown at the fact Peter's not on his usual motorcycle. Peter looks like he's about to gag by the time he reaches the door. "Hello John."

He pulls out the Lahey keys and opens the front door. "Peter. Mind telling me why you're driving Lydia's car?"

Peter rolls his eyes. "Her parents were having another. . .discussion and she decided to leave before they started hurling the china at each other again."

It should probably bother John that there's a seventeen year-old girl sharing a house with a man a little over half her age. But he'd been there when Peter offered free reign of his house to the Betas, and Stiles had repeatedly confirmed that nothing was happening between the two of them.

He lets it drop, because in the past month the Martin fights have become legendary. "Earlier this evening Simon Lahey was murdered. His son Isaac said he'd been studying when he heard a loud thump. He headed downstairs to investigate and said he found his dad's torso ripped to shreds."

"Trust me, I can smell the entrails from here."

John gave Peter a look and the other man made a 'go on' gesture. John bit back a sigh. "Isaac heard a crash and raced to a window to see what he described as a 'man in a reptile costume' running towards the Preserve." He shrugs. "My gut told me this was more than it looked like, especially how Lahey got torn up and I called you."

"Well I can tell you one thing, this wasn't a happy house."

He watches Peter slip on a pair of gloves. "What do you mean?"

"You've got the whole spectrum of negative emotions practically oozing off the walls. Fear, disappointment, pain, resignation." He heads towards the basement door. "Rage."

John finds he's frowning. "Body was over that way," he jerks his thumb at the opposite end of the house.

Peter raps a knuckle against the door. "In a moment. I want to see what the scent leads to." The knob turns under his hand and before John can argue he's taking the stairs two at a time, in the dark.

With a sigh John follows, flicking on the light so he doesn't make a fool of himself. "It's a basement Peter."

The only answer he gets is an exaggerated sigh. Feeling like he doesn't have anything better to do he makes himself comfortable at the base of the stairs and lets Peter indulge himself.

After a few moments Peter walks over to the old freezer and nudges it with his shoe. "Here we are."

Curiosity pulls John over. "What?"

Peter squats down. "The source of the rage-scent." Nostrils flare as he inhales. "Not Isaac's, though his scent's quite strong here."

Surprise sparks in John. "You know Isaac?"

"If by know you mean he's one of my students then yes. He's in my sixth period class with Boyd." He always forgets that Peter's a teacher, it's just so bizarre to think about. "Shall we see what's inside?"

John nods, even though there's a small lump of anxiety making itself at home in his stomach. Peter stands, lifting the freezer lid as he does so.

It's a freezer. Though apparently it's more than that to Peter, his eyes are bleeding red, and there are definitely claws and fangs. "Peter." The Alpha closes his eyes and breaths deeply, though it doesn't seem to help much. “What's gotten into you?”

Peter's lip curls, showing off his, uh. . .very impressive teeth. A still clawed finger points at the freezer's inner lid, then without a word he storms up the stairs.

Trying to understand John leans in close to inspect the lid. It takes his eyes a few moments to realizes what's wrong with the lid. Anger flashes through him when he realizes the marks there are gouges.

When he finally gets a hold of himself he goes back upstairs. He finds Peter squatting down by where Lahey died. John tries to squash down everything else but business. "Sorry I couldn't keep the body here. Once the coroner's done her report I could probably get you into the morgue."

Peter shakes his head. "No need. The scents would be ruined by then anyways." His nose wrinkles. "Too many chemicals." Nostrils flare.

"You, uh, smell anything?" God, that definitely felt weird to say.

"No," Peter's frowning. "And that's worrying." Quickly he stands and strides over to the broken window. Heedless of the broken glass he sticks his head out. Then scares John nearly half to death by throwing himself out. John rushes over to see Peter's hands pushing away dead rose stalks. "There we are."

"What?"

Peter holds up a piece of shed reptile skin. "A clue."

-

Peter feels exhausted by the time he gets home. While his foray into crime-drama television has been illuminating, it raised more questions than answers. And he loathes not holding all the answers. He slips off his coat and shoes and frowns when he notices a faint light coming from the kitchen.

He creeps in and finds his frown deepening when he sees that the light is coming from the breakfast nook, where Lydia's curled up, a cup of half-drunk hot chocolate sitting in front of her. As gently as he could manage he picked up her sleeping form. She curls closer a little sleepy sound escaping her, that on pain of death he would never call a snore.

The stairs were a bit harder to manage when he's doing his best not to wake her, but he does it.

Ironically it's putting her back into bed that wakes her up, or at least awake enough that she's aware. "Peter? What happened?"

After stripping he crawled into bed and pulled the sheets around them. "I told you I'd tell you in the morning. You shouldn't have gotten up."

"Mmmmknow. I was worried though."

If she keeps that up he has no idea what it'll do to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! A wild plot appears! Yes, it still is Matt and Jackson and Matt's excuse is still the same, but I've basically changed everything else (So hopefully there'll be _some_ things will be a little surprising).
> 
> And now the pressure's really on because I haven't finished the next chapter yet. . .


	5. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm horribly sorry for not posting for the past few weeks, I _have_ been writing, just not the parts I need to finish the actual chapter that's next. And on that note. . .yes, this week you're only getting a brief interlude, hopefully I can whip my ass in gear and finish the next few chapters this week so this doesn't happen again.

Jackson awakes with a gasp, his heart beating a merry jig in his chest and the rest of his body feeling like its been wrung like a dishrag. He manages to crawl out of bed and staggers towards his bathroom, freezing when he catches a glimpse of something different in the mirror.

He turns to face the mirror fully and narrows his eyes at the new tattoo. It’s a snake gnawing on the tail in its mouth, encircling the head of a screaming woman, right over his heart. Involuntarily a hand raises up to touch it. The skin there doesn’t feel any different, not that he expected it to, but for some reason he stumbles, his mind suddenly full of images. _Gloved hands holding a knife. Desiccated faces with manic smiles. Pain, so much pain._

_No need to worry about that now. . ._ A dry and raspy voice speaks. _Forget. . ._

Jackson blinks at his bare chest, wondering why the hell he’d stopped in front of his mirror. He goes to shower, mind thinking about practice this afternoon, quarter-finals are this weekend and he’s got a lot of work to do.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update *gasp*, could it be?
> 
> Indeed it is!

It’s late morning and the rumble of a motorcycle has Laura peering out her window. It takes her a moment to realize it's Peter who's just pulled up to their hotel, and she finds herself watching him warily. She hears Derek turning the water off as Peter knocks. Even though she doesn't know what to expect she opens the door anyways.

Peter gives her a smile, nothing too special about it, but she finds herself on edge anyways. "What are you doing here?"

He holds up his left hand to show a pair of keys and a packet of colored dot-stickers. "I thought that since you and Derek are here we could go through the storage unit and sort out who gets what."

Laura's instinct is that this is a peace offering and she's more than willing to take it. She wants to help him, the memory of his soul flashes through her, and if it means dealing with the untouched past well all the better. She nods. "Alright."

Derek comes out of the bathroom looking torn between indifference and anger. “Why?”

Peter shrugs. “You’re here, so why not.”

She hates the defensiveness in his voice; they shouldn’t have to explain things to each other, they’re family. Gently she rests a hand on Derek’s arm. “Come on, doing this will be good for all of us.” Moving on is why they’re here after all.

Derek gives a tight nod then pushes past Peter to go out the door, she hopes that maybe today he'll talk. Laura holds in a sigh as she grabs her keys. “I still remember where it is.”

Peter only nods in response as he follows her out.

The storage unit isn't as big as she remembers it. Then again the last time she'd been in it had been when she was a gangly thirteen after Great-pa died and the important things the family wanted to keep but no one personally wanted got put in it. She's actually surprised that the whole lot hasn't been auctioned off yet. _'What's left of the Hale's. Bidding starts at fifty dollars.'_

Peter hands her the red and yellow stickers. “If you find any books I call first claim."

Laura frowns as she takes the stickers. "Why?"

"Because," Peter starts moving into the unit peering under and around furniture. "Unlike you I don't have the resources of the Reids to call upon. And my Beta's will need all the help they can get.”

She hands half the stickers to Derek and follows Peter, putting a yellow sticker on a set of carved bedposts. She can feel Derek behind her practically radiating tension. “If we stay here we won't have that either.”

Peter shrugs as he places a green sticker on an apple crate. “That won't be my problem.”

Laura stops so suddenly that Derek bumps into her, enough is enough. “Why are you doing this to us We're your _family_ uncle Peter.” She's proud of herself for keeping her voice under control. She still can't reconcile this new Peter with her uncle from before the fire. Even though time and distance have strained it, the family bond is still a strand of spider-silk between them, so his callous rejections _hurt_. 

He whirls on the two of them eyes flaring red.“ _Pack_ is family and you are not pack, _pack_ stays and protects its own.” Laura can feel her own eyes turn red at his aggression. “You abandoned me, left me to be cared by _humans_ who, for all you knew, were the same ones who murdered the rest of us and maimed me. You'd been training for years to be an Alpha and what's the first thing you did when you got that power? You snatched up the ones still standing and _ran_.” He takes the few steps between them and though he's only got an inch or two on her she somehow manages to loom. “We do not _run_ Laura Marie Hale. We call on the ties of blood and land and _stand our ground_.”

Behind her she feels Derek shift and prepare to lunge, and while she's tempted to let him she's the Alpha and needs to deal with her own problems. Reaching behind her she rests a calming hand on his waist. “Training doesn't prepare you for the shock of losing nearly all of your family _uncle_. And you were all but dead; no tattoos, no scent, not eve the barest twitch of life. What else was I supposed to do? Two can't easily defend a territory, especially one the size of Beacon Hills.” She straightens her spine, unwilling to be bullied. “I did what _I_ thought was right and I'm not going to let you guilt trip me with what-ifs.” She did enough of that on her own, especially with Derek still refusing to even mention the month leading up to the fire, let alone the fire itself.

Peter takes a step back and inclines his head slightly, not a surrender, but at least a cease-fire. “And there is our impasse, and the reason I cannot accept you both in my town and as my Alpha.” Abruptly he turns around and goes back to searching for books, as if the conversation they'd just had, hadn't. . .well. . .happened.

Laura found, our of everything, that hurt the most.

-

Derek wishes that this weren't happening: that he and Laura were still back in Sisters with the Reids, feeling, if not loved, at least accepted.

But it is happening, and if there's anything. . . _she_. . .taught him, it's that you can't make wishes and expect them to come true.

Even amidst the ache the sight of his great-pa's piano, which he hauled all the way from Ireland because he thought it was a good luck charm, brings a small smile to his face. He might not remember much about the old man, but he remembers sitting on his lap, chubby little fingers striking piano keys giddily.

Laura is a warm presence beside him. “See, I was right about this being good.”

Her words bring the memory crashing down and Derek starts to wall himself off again, he wants to be happy, but he can't, not after being happy killed his family.

She sighs. “Derek, I wish you would talk to me. I want to help you.” She sounds so much like the psychiatrist she's never gotten to be that he lays the bricks of his wall tighter. It's the catch-22 of his life: tell her so she'll be happy, tell her and she'll hate him.

But right now, surrounded by all their shared history, he finds that part of him does want to talk; so he bites his tongue and moves deeper into the storage unit, away from his sister and the lie that is her current acceptance.

-

It's mid-afternoon by the time they finally finish, nearly everything sorted out; and Laura finds herself thinking that maybe she and Derek will stay here in Beacon Hills.

She watches Peter, more curious than wary now, as he finishes moving all the boxes of books he'd found and pulls out his phone.

"Stiles you and Boyd need to get over to the storage unit." A pause. “Ah, yes. Then give Boyd your keys and send him over.” Another pause. “No Stiles, he will not screw up your precious car, that would be Scott.” A sigh. “Stiles I do not wish to argue, just do it.”

She can hear Stiles' tinny affirmation before Peter hangs up; though he doesn't put his phone away, just dials another number. Laura can tell the other line gets picked up a few moments later, but she can't hear whoever it is. "Lydia after practice you, Danny, and Stiles need to meet Boyd and I at the house." Peter hangs up again and picks up a few of the boxes he's placed by the door.

“Do you want help with that?” The question escapes Laura before she can really decided whether or not she actually should have asked it. But she does mean it. Peter gives a small half-hearted shrug, but right now she feels like she should take what she can get. So she grabs some boxes and follows Peter out.

He puts his boxes on the sidewalk next to the parking lot and she follows suit. On their way back into the locker she nudges Derek. “Come on lazy pup.” Her old nickname for him and Cora just slips out, but she welcomes it anyways, it brings to mind happier times.

The look Derek gives her in response is a mixture of shock and pain, and, giving into temptation, she pulls him close and buries her face in his chest. She can feel him shaking, minutely, but at least he returns her hug. She's learned to be patient and will accept baby steps.

She can hear Peter moving behind them, and is grateful that he says nothing. Eventually she pulls away and smiles at Derek, he returns it with a shaky, uncertain smile of his own. 

Part of her wants to push, but she's learned from experience that sometimes that just makes things worse. _Baby steps_ , she repeats.

Derek follows her to the boxes and picks up the final few alongside her. “We got the last of them,” she announces to Peter as they start to head out the door.

Peter doesn't answer, just loiters next to his boxes on the curb. She bites her cheek to keep from commenting, he's made her position in his eyes abundantly clear and chiding him on manners just seems petty. Instead she just adds her boxes to the stacks then goes to lounge on the hood of her camero. 

Derek joins her a few moments later, the look he's giving her somewhere between 'what the hell are you doing?' and 'how much buffing am I going to have to do to get the scuff marks she's going to leave out.' She gives him an exasperated huff.

Peter arches an eyebrow and still doesn't say anything.

If that's the game he wants to play. . .

So when Boyd arrives fifteen or so minutes later it's to a deathly silent stare-down. He seems unphased as he gets out of Stiles' jeep and walks up to Peter.

And just like that Peter changes. “Thank you for being so quick Boyd.”

Boyd smiles, one that makes him appear a hundred times more approachable. “No problem.” 

"I found us a good jumping off point for our reptile mystery." Peter pats the boxes they stacked up. Boyd raises an eyebrow at the number of boxes and Peter grins. “We were a very book-friendly household.”

"Reptile mystery?" Derek manages to get out before her.

Peter's silent for a moment, then shrugs. "Since I'm sure you'll find out soon enough: Someone was murdered last night. The son said he saw a man in a reptile 'costume' and I found some shed reptile scales when the sheriff called me over. I'd like to catch whomever it is sooner rather than later."

"Who died?"

"The Sheriff knows?"

Peter gives an exasperated sigh while Boyd grins and picks up the first few boxes. "Yes, John Stilinski knows. It was one of Stiles' caveats. Though I probably would have told him anyways. It was family policy. And the victim was Simon Lahey."

Derek shrugs into her for a moment. "The old swim coach?"

Their uncle blinks in what she thinks is surprise. "Hmmm, was he? I don't remember him at all."

Out of the corner of her eye she can see Derek firmly staring at his shoes. "I tried out for swim team, the summer _before_." For a moment she wants to shake him, it had hurt, yes, but the fire didn't represent the end all be all of their lives. "He said I should try again when I didn't look like a twig."

She remembers that day, the two of them had gone running in the woods until he'd calmed down. When they'd gotten back to the house their mother had greeted them with a mug of Derek's favorite hot chocolate.

Peter makes another thoughtful hum, then pulls out his phone again. A few moments later he's all smiles and charm. “Hello Lucille.” Pause. “Yes, yes. No it was only food poisoning, I'll be back tomorrow.” Pause, Peter laughs. “Yes, well. . .I was wondering if you could look something up for me.” Pause. “Do you know anything about Simon Lahey?”

A short while later he gives a 'thanks' then hangs up. “Well Simon retired back in 2007, but last Friday he was at the school for some sort of teacher appreciation assembly.”

Boyd pauses. “I remember that. They were giving him an award for the swim team winning state. Thought wouldn't have known it by looking at him.” Shouldering more boxes Boyd heads back to Stiles' jeep.

The look of contemplation Peter gets on his face is achingly familiar to Laura. _'Hey uncle Peter I've got a new riddle for you.' 'Yeah?” “Yep! What falls but never breaks? What breaks but never falls?' His eyes narrow and his nose wrinkles a little as he thinks._

“I wonder. . .”

Peter's voice breaks her memory. “What?”

He gives her a sharp look and picks up some boxes. “It's not your problem, so why worry?”

Even Derek winces a little at that biting retort. “What I can't be curious?”

Peter's look turns droll. “Curiosity gets you caught by strange smelling circles.”

She can see Boyd roll his eyes at that and she wonders what he thinks of all this. Though she feels that even if she did ask he would just smile before walking away. Boyd grabs the last of the boxes and before she can say anything else the two of them are gone.

Derek thumps his head lightly against the windshield. “So what are we going to do now?”

“In a perfect world we'd be going to our Emissary to ask about reptile monsters. As things stand though we'd better hope the library has a good internet provider and an organized card catalog.” 

He gives her a look and she laughs.

“Chin up lazy pup, it'll be fun.”

An eyebrow gets raised as he slides off the hood, but he tacitly, for once, says nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course I update only to, in the end, let you know that for the next few weeks I won't be able to. I'll be in Europe during the whole (basically) month of September and don't know if I'll get _any_ writing done.
> 
> So I'll see you guys in October.


End file.
